


To Crown my Hatred

by Corycides



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revolution AU. </p>
<p>General Sebastian Monroe's obsession with the Matheson's cost Julia Neville her husband and endangered her son. Her revenge will cost him everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Crown my Hatred

**Author's Note:**

> An AU based on what might or might not happen in the fall finale for Revolution.

Philadelphia was burning. There had been explosions all over the city. Julia, barefoot in her tight red dress, joined a line passing buckets in the street. It was dawn before the Militia came to relieve them.

She passed her bucket to a solemn boy she didn’t recognized and croaked orders. It was Jeremy who came to get it.

‘Here,’ he said, pressing a dented silver flask into her hands. ‘Take a drink, Julia.’

She sniffed it and her nasal hairs frizzled.

‘Thanks, but I want a drink, not to cauterize my throat,’ she said dryly. ‘What happened, Jeremy? How did Matheson get into-‘

He wasn’t smirking or being a smart-aleck.. That’s when Julia knew that something was wrong. She faltered into silence, pressing her blistered fingers to dry, cracked lips.

‘Jason?’ she whispered. ‘My son?’

Jeremy took a swig of his whiskey and a deep breath. ‘Not Jason. I’m sorry, Julia. It’s…Tom.’

Julia didn’t think she’d ever forgive herself for the flash of relief – not her Jason – before the grief hit her like a wave. Her knees went weak and Jeremy had to catch her, hoisting her back onto her feet. He looked ridiculously uncomfortable to be in the position of white knight.

‘What happened?’ she asked.

Jeremy’s mouth twisted. ‘Matheson. Tom caught him on his way into Independence Hall. It...he killed him. Do you need to sit down, Julia? Do you want me to get one of the other wives-’

She dug her fingers into his arm. ‘No. I want – I need – to see my husband.’

Jeremy hesitated and then nodded, waving a man to bring his horse over. He must have thought her too shaken to ride because he boosted her up and then scrambled up behind her, putting his arms around her to gather up the reins.

People were looking, expressions of pity, sympathy and nosiness on their face. Julia sniffed and wiped her hands over her face, scrubbing away tears and grime. Not that she was what appearances mattered for anymore. 

Jeremy kicked the horse into motion and turned its head towards Independence Hall. As the horse broke into a bone-jarring trot Julia twisted her fingers in its mane. Her mind was so full of Tom – the way he smiled when she was clever, how kind he used to be, how strong he’d become for them – that she didn’t notice Jeremy was taking the long way until he reined the horse in on an empty street.

Paranoia (and hope, had he lied?) jabbed at her and she casually dropped her hand to her thigh, near her knife.

‘Jeremy?’ she said.

‘You need to know something, Julia,’ he said, sounding very solemn. ‘Before you get to the Hall, before you see General Monroe, and you need to remember that all Tom ever cared about was that you were safe. OK?’

Disquiet filled Julia.

‘What?’ she said, twisting around to look at Jeremy.

He rubbed his hand over his face and dropped his gaze. ‘Miles, General Matheson, surrendered to Monroe. He’s not been re-instated, but-‘

‘But he will be,’ she said.

Jeremy shrugged. ‘Or pardoned, at least. He won’t be executed. Not by Monroe.’

Julia bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood and could trust herself to answer. ‘Of course,’ she murmured. ‘Not by Monroe.’

Jeremy patted her back awkwardly, as if he expected her to cry. Julia wanted to, but it felt like every tear in her body had turned to smoke. She was dry and hard and cold.

‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ Jeremy told her, booting the horse in the shoulder. ‘Tom wouldn’t want you to, and you have Jason to take care off.’

She nodded stiffly, ‘And General Monroe does dislike being questioned by a woman.’

Jeremy snorted. ‘By anyone.’ Then he leaned in close so he could whisper in her shoulder, like there might be spying ears even out here. Maybe he was right. Monroe had been more and more paranoid, and the closer you were to him the more suspicious he was. ‘Tom had a lot of friends, Julia. He was respected.’

The implication was obvious. Julia supposed it was touching, but it would have been a lot more encouraging if Miles Matheson hadn’t been avoiding getting killed for years. And if he was the only one she hated.

‘I know that, Jeremy,’ she said, covering his hand with hers. ‘Thank you.’

He signed. ‘You’re going to do something stupid, I can tell,’ he muttered. ‘Just don’t saw I didn’t warn you.’

************

Tom was laid out on a table in Independence Hall, his hands folded together over the stiff, bloody stain on his uniform. Someone had laid his sword by his side and his eyes were closed.  
It felt like Julia’s heart cracked. She walked over to him, part of her waiting for him to pop up and say it was a joke (not that even wishful thinking could help her imagine that), and unfolded his hands so she could twine her fingers through his. Lifting them, she kissed his cold knuckles.

‘Oh my Tom,’ she said. ‘My loyal Tom.’

She should have pushed him harder, he should have let himself be pushed. If they had moved against Monroe, then Miles would have had no reason to come blasting his way into their city.

‘Julia,’ Monroe’s smooth, convincing voice said. His hand touched her shoulder and she didn’t slap it away. ‘I am so sorry for your loss, Tom was one of my best men.’

‘He would have been proud to die for you, General,’ she said, making stiff fingers release Tom’s hands. She turned to face Monroe, trying to make her stiff face into the right expression.  
Not too strong, not too weak. It collapsed into trembling lips and a ragged, hateful hitch of a sob. ‘What of the man who killed him?’

Monroe’s face hardened and he clasped his hands behind his back. ‘Miles is my prisoner,’ he said. ‘He is a valuable prisoner, but trust me, Julia. He will suffer for this.’

She didn’t believe him, but she managed a wobbly-lipped smile. ‘Good.’

Monroe stepped forwards and pulled her into his embrace, stroking her hair and murmuring comfortingly. It would, apparently, all be OK.

Behind him Jeremy looked sick with nerves, like he expected Julia to stab Monroe in the back right then and there. He needn’t have worried. Her revenge wasn’t going to be that gentle.


End file.
